


Co-dependency, Drugs and Other Things That Don't Mix

by otherside



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Drugs, F/M, M/M, Maids and shit, Mentions of Suicide, Music, Rich - Freeform, Super Rich Kids, Teasing, hardcore drugs, i still suck at tagging, it's really long, like a lot of drugs, lots of swearing, not just weed my friends, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherside/pseuds/otherside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's just a rich kid with drugs, sex and a cunt-like attitude on his mind. He's got no time for anything other than fucking around, but then there's Zayn with his fucking desire to fuck everyone and they're trying to impress the new kid in town. Harry's got too many issues of his own, why does he even hang out with all these twats? </p><p>Oh and of course, Harry's just fucked up just at the sight of this new kid - goody two shoes and a muscular body. He's just setting himself up for disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Co-dependency, Drugs and Other Things That Don't Mix

**Author's Note:**

> Minor grammatical errors may be sprawled around, I've overlooked it too many times, but I still haven't caught them all. Also, I am aware there is a fic very similar to this one and I was not trying to copy it, because I've been writing this one since the beginning of the year omg. Anyway it's based around Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean.

Harry’s feet pat against the marble flooring, each cold step shooting up his body like an electric current. He ruffles a hand through his hair, unruly curls slipping through his fingers. He clutches a mug of tea in the other hand while a maid strolls by. He takes the time to acknowledge her with a lazy smirk.

“Harry?” She chirps, as if she’s finally got around to speak up.

He replies with a hum of the lips as he sips his tea, eyebrows up in recognition. She stands with her back to him, white knuckles on her cleaning basket. She’s stiff in her scoopneck dress, her long, rusty, blonde hair nearly grazing the hem of it.

“Mr. Tomlinson and Mr. Horan are here -- they’ve been waiting for you to wake.”

Harry hums back an “oh,” and pats her on the shoulder, lingering a little too long against the bareness of her collar. He watches as her body shivers under his touch and grins politely, heading to the front of the house. He loves the way her skin goes from a healthy flush to a sickly ivory.

“Thanks, Aggie.”

Her body quivers as she strides off, hips purposely swaying to an imaginary beat. Harry notes her actions and drops his mug on the ground.

“Whoops,” he smirks.

Her eyes dart to the floor where the smashed class sits and she silently curses his name. Harry’s eyes flicker up at her, grin on his lips, and motions towards the broken cup.

“Well?” He growls. “My parents aren’t paying you for nothing.”

She hesitantly shuffles over tending to his mess. Her bum’s angled into his front, and Harry can practically see her panties like this. He places a firm hand on her waist, nudging his hips into her arse. He lets a finger trace the indent of her spine down the zip of her dress. Harry snaps her up quick, pressing their bodies together, lips against her ear.

“Don’t think you’re special because we fucked,” he rumbles, rolling his hips against her. “You’re still just my maid.”

Her body’s completely still, hard in Harry’s arms. “Yes, Mr. Styles.”

He lets go, biting a mark into her neck, not even bothering to soothe the sting. He shoves her forward by the curve of her arse.

“Now, go clean my room, left you a surprise in there.” And he laughs at her, because she’s just so pathetic to actually think she’s better than any other slag who walks in here.

 

* * *

 

 

Louis snorts up a white line as Harry strolls into the room, pyjamas on and stomach growling with hunger. He wipes off his nose with the sleeve of his thermal and grins up at Harry through the high in his eyes.

“What took ‘ya so long?” Niall grumbles, cutting up a line on the vintage glass table.

“Fucking with one of the new maids.”

“You shag?” Louis hums.

“Yeah, couple nights ago and she thinks she strut around and call me Harry.” He shakes his head in disapproval, “Can’t even find good help these days.”

They all laugh in harmony as if this is the worst of their problems. But, before another joke can be shoved around, another maid is standing at the doorway, voice bouncing off the material of the walls.

“Mr. Styles,” she voices through gritted teeth, “Mr. Malik is at the door.”

Harry waves a hand, shaking his head, not even bothering to completely acknowledge her existence. Louis and Niall laugh at the unfortunate worker who has to deal with a shit boss like Harry Styles.

“Let him in,” he cheers.

She takes note of the white powder on the table she’ll clean later, and the blood dripping down Niall’s upper lip, swiping it away before any of the other boys notice. Harry cuts up a line up for himself, eyes fixed on the coke laying on the table when his stomach growls angrily.

“Oh, Marie, bring some food will you?”

“I will have Robert make something immediately, Mr. Styles.” She snarls, trying to hide it in a mask of smiles. “Would you like anything in particular?”

“No -- unless the boys want anything.”

Harry gestures towards Louis and Niall, the boys turning to their attention to the maid. They look at each other in fascination, laugh lazily as Harry snorts up a line, not even bothering to hide from his parents’ maids, because they know the drill.

“Mr. Tomlinson? Mr. Horan?” She acknowledges.

“A cuppa,” Louis declares.

“I wan’ that soup Robert always makes ‘nd some chips on the side, maybe some of that expensive bread Anne always ships in, yeah?”

“Yes, Mr. Horan, will do.” She smiles. “I’ll make sure he makes extra just incase you want seconds.”

“Thanks, Marie.”

“Of course,” she grins, walking off, heels tapping against the marble.

“She wants your dick, Horan.” Louis sneers once she’s out of sight.

“No, she wants my dad’s money,” he grins, teeth bared. “Bobby pays more than Des.”

“Piss off you wanker,” Harry curses.

They laugh off the tension of parental pay. Then, Zayn walks into the room with a hidden bottle of whiskey and hands drenched in charcoal, reeking of something sour and pleasing to Harry’s nose.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry pops a pill that Zayn tosses him and listens to soft beat of the vinyl that plays in the music room (which had previously been Harry’s parents room, but they’re never here anyway, so he just did whatever he wanted with it).

“So, I was driving here in ma’ dad’s car and saw this fit bloke jogging down the street.” He pauses to laugh. “Nearly pulled over and tossed him a couple hundred quid to fuck me in the backseat.”

Harry mentally reminds himself that Zayn has a girlfriend, but it doesn’t really stop him from freely fucking any other attractive person that strolls along. If it wasn’t for the fact that he and Harry were mates, he’d probably would have fucked him too. Harry doesn’t see the point in the label of having a girlfriend if he isn’t gonna make use of her.

Niall winces at the thought of Zayn being fucked in the back of his dad’s BMW, windows fogged over, white splashed across the black leather. Louis laughs hysterically, because he loves the way Niall reacts to the thought of anything involving two males being sexually involved. Harry’s completely out of it, eyes closed, losing himself to the high.

“Wha’ was he doing taking a jog in this neighbourhood?” Louis giggles, because everyone knows everyone in this town. Some fit bloke can’t go unnoticed.

“Think he moved in at the end of the street,” he shrugs.

His voice changes when he says end of the street, because they all know what that means. It’s just another poor family who somehow saved up the money to buy the home of their dreams. Harry laughs by himself, because he knows how this is gonna end up. They all up the same; rejected by the neighbourhood and running free when the kids finally go off to Uni.

“Maybe we should head over there,” Louis smirks. “Be a little neighbourly.”

Zayn shakes his head, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag, exhaling the smoke above them. He waves the cigarette clad hand to Louis, knee bouncing eagerly against the cold floor.

“Wait until I sober up,” he grins. “Needa impress him if I plan on shagging him.”

Niall cringes again and Louis giggles, bumping fists with Zayn. Harry just drifts off into the blackness of his mind, the drugs numbing his every nerve.

 

* * *

 

  


They all dress up in Harry’s clothes to impress the well fit bloke at the end of the street. Harry’s got a lifeless pair of jeans on bound against his skin, a button down top, designer blazer and a cream coloured jacket over it. He’s twisting his toes in a pair of shoes Anne bought him for his birthday last year. Harry recalls her saying they were from Italy and nearly costs a thousand pound, but her baby was worth it. He laughs at the thought. Harry doesn’t even like them that much.

Niall’s dressed in a button down, a jumper over it, collar peeking out of neckline. He’s got straight leg chinos on, cuffed at the bottoms, wearing his signature Supras (black high tops for today), despite the fact that Zayn hates them. He’s got a heavy gold rolex sitting on his wrist and diamond studs in his ears. (He looks well fit himself. Sometimes Harry wishes he was just a little more open minded, but then again, so do all of them.)

Louis’ clad in a short sleeve button down, buttoned to the very top and wool coat heavy on his shoulders. His legs tight in a pair of dark trousers, feet covered in a shiny pair of expensive boots Harry doesn’t recall having.

Zayn is absolute hell; tossing around jumpers and trousers, trying to decide whether to wear a blazer or a jacket. Harry nearly goes mad seeing him ruin the pristine condition of his massive closet.

He ends up wearing a designer button up with a rounded collar and an expensive jacket Gemma bought Harry a couple of Christmases ago -- he doesn’t recall ever wearing it. He slips on his trusty pair of leather ankle boots and they head off to the garage.

“Which car should we take?” Harry mumbles.

They all shrug like this is the decision of the year.

“Probably one of the nicer ones, but nothing too nice.” Zayn replies. “We wanna impress the bloke, not scare him off with all the money you’ve got... well all the money we’ve got.”

They decide on a sparkly Mercedes that Harry’s dad got custom made and drive down the road to the new kid’s house.

 

* * *

 

 

They line up accordingly behind Harry as he clutches a plush bottle of aged, French viognier. His finger glides over the bell, yielding a pitiful grin.

A middle-aged woman answers the door. Her hair greying in streaks, the rest remaining a rusty blonde, eyes an icy blue, skin wrinkling around the corners. Her lips pink and cracked by the dry English air. She tucks a stray hair behind her ear, wrapping her arms around herself.

“To what do I owe this honour of having four posh lads at my door?”

He takes a moment to laugh at her pathetic attempt of humour.

“Hi Ma’am, I’m Harry Styles, I live down the street. My mum wanted me to give you a bottle of wine, welcome you to the neighbourhood.”

He offers her the wine and she takes it gratefully, icy eyes inspecting every inch of the glass. Her face flushes a light pink and eyes widen with amazement. Harry wonders how much her eyes would widen if she knew the price of that bottle.

“Oh, dear, thank you! This is too kind.” She cheers. “Tell your mum thank you, I’ll make sure to make something for you all.”

Harry takes note of the fact that she says that she’s going to make something, not send. He’s almost sure he knows that they’re poor now. He almost laughs because they’ll be gone before they know it. This town has no room for poor people.

“Well,” she grins. “Would you like to come in for some tea? I’d love to get to know you all.”

He doesn’t even bother to turn around and acknowledge his friends behind him. Just grins at the lady who hasn’t even introduced herself by name, but is willing to bring these rebellious lads in her home.

“We’d love to.”

She directs them in, and her face flushes again as she turns back from the door. She shuffles to the kitchen, hoping they follow and they all manage to fit on the stools sat in front of the granite counter.

“Sorry it’s such a mess, we just moved in a coupla’ days ago.”

She gets out tea leaves and puts the kettle on the stove, then leans over the table to direct her attention back to the four boys sitting at her counter.

“Do you lads all live around here?”

They all nod, fake grins plastered on their tight lips.

“I think I have a son about your age -- how old are you boys?”

“Well, Louis’ 19,” he makes sure to point him out. “Zayn’s 18,” he gestures towards him. “Niall’s 18,” he points out the artificial blonde. “And I’m 17.”

“Oh, yes,” she grins excitedly. “Liam’s 18.”

“Oh really?” Harry pretends to be excited. “Where is he now?”

“He’s off running errands, needed him to pick up some food from the store.”

“Oh, well that’s too bad, we would’ve enjoyed to meeting him.”

“If you drop by later, I’m sure he’ll be around. He hasn’t been up to much, says he doesn’t know the area well.”

“We’d love to show him around, if he was willing to hang out with a bunch of boring lads like us.” He smiles through gritted teeth.

“I’m sure he’d love that!” She excitedly squeals. “Ah, Liam isn’t the best with people, though.”

“Nor are we Ma’am, but sometimes you just need to put yourself out there.” Harry lies.

“Ah, of course.” She nods. “Well the tea’s done, I’ll just get you all a cup and send you off. You don’t need some old lady sucking up your day.”

“No rush, Ms...”

“Mrs. Payne,” she finishes for him.

“Mrs. Payne, we weren’t up to any good anyway.” Harry coincidentally admits.

 

* * *

 

 

“That have better been worth it, Zayn.” Harry growls, ripping at the buttons of his top exposing the tattoos on his chest.

“If he’s the same bloke I saw earlier, hell yes, he’s worth all that trouble.” Zayn says, pulling on a tee and fitting on a beanie he’d got at the shop on the way back.

“If not, you have to give me a bottle of those pills you gave this mornin’ and a blowjob.”

Zayn reaches out his hand and Harry shakes.

“I’ll take that bet, Styles.” He whispers into his neck, leaving a kiss behind.

“Gross,” Niall gags. “Can you lot not flirt in front of me?”

“Oh, poor Nialler, don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Zayn winks, reaching for the blonde.

He shuffles away, nearly yelping, afraid of horny Zayn and his determination to fuck nearly everyone. Niall refuses to go down this road. Harry thinks it’s cute he’s so stuck with being absolutely straight. (Though he won’t ever tell of the night his own hands wandered down a not-so-sober Niall’s joggers.)

“C’mon Niall, just one kiss!”

“Fuck off, Zayn!”

Louis laughs, pulling out his mobile and typing with quick fingers. Marie places a whiskey neat next to Harry as he lights a fag, nodding a thanks and watches her arse as she walks away. He laughs to himself and thinks pathetic. He’s not too sure of who he’s talking about though.

His eyelids droop over as Zayn chases Niall around the room, the smoke flying around his head. Louis' next to him, waving a picture of a droopy pair of tits on his phone.

Absent-mindedly he wavers over the thought of where his parents have gone off to this time and wonders if they’ll call. Maybe he’ll call them later tonight and leave them a message. But then he laughs at his own idea, because they don’t even care and he shouldn’t either.

 

* * *

 

 

He scoops up some blow and snorts it up real quick as he answers Gemma’s call. Her voice is a little shaky. Harry momentarily worries for a bit, but then forgets about it.

“Harry?”

“Hey Gem,” he hums into his mobile.

“Oh thank god, you’re still alive.” She laughs. “Always terrified you’re not gonna answer one day.”

“You’d probably get a call from the police to identify my body before you have the chance of me not answering my phone.”

“Oh Harry! Don’t talk like that.” She grumbles.

Harry mumbles an “eh”into the line and she goes on with the pointless, monthly phone call. He kinda thinks Gemma’s a pain in the arse, but he’s somewhat thankful there’s someone who cares about him nonetheless.

“How are you? Things okay at home? Is Mum home?”

“Erm, I’m okay, been up to no good. Robert’s been trying new recipes and there’s a new maid.” He laughs to himself for a moment. “And of course she isn’t home. She’s off somewhere with Robin, spending Des’ money.”

“Oh,” she says as if she’s disappointed. Harry feels an unsettling twist in his gut. “Well, do you need anything? I can probably come down there next weekend. We can hit some shops, chat and spend a little time together. We haven’t seen each other since last Christmas.”

“I’m fine, Gem, really.” He assures her. “Been living alone like this for some time, it’s not like this is anything new.”

“It’s just you shouldn’t have to live like that Haz,” she sighs. “Maybe you should move closer to me, we could keep in touch better, plus you wouldn’t have to be all alone in that massive house.”

Harry stumbles over the idea of how nice it would be to live in a flat next to Gemma and her boyfriend, out somewhere in the city where’s it’s beautiful with drugs up the arse. He could be someone other than Harry Styles. He’d be known as Gemma’s sister and wow, he must be a good kid with a sister like that.

But he’s too stubborn to let his happiness win.

“Just don’t worry about me, Gemma.” He spits. “I’m fine.”

“Harry! Don’t talk to me like that! I’m just worried about you!” She retorts.

“How about you don’t then! Just forget about me -- just like everyone else has, Gem. It seems pretty easy.”

Then he clicks his mobile off and chucks it at a wall.

Aggie yelps as she’s stood at the door. Harry turns to her with his eyebrows turned in and pink lips pursed. He swings a dramatic arm at her, nearly red in the face.

“What the fuck do you want?” He growls.

“Erm...um, well, Mr. Malik, Mr. Tomlinson and Mr. Horan are downstairs, they’re waiting for you to return back to the Payne’s mansion.”

“They can wait a little longer then, can’t they?” He smirks. “C’mere.”

She’s hesitant to come towards him, feet staggering across the marble and eyes pointed towards the floor. Harry’s impatient with her games.

“Fucking come here, Aggie!”

She whimpers loudly and rushes in front of him. He grips her arse in his massive hand, pressing her into his newly sprung erection. Roughly, he angles her face up to his and kisses her, biting on her lips. She melts instantly and Harry throws her on his bed, shoving down his jeans.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry tosses one of his spare shirts at Aggie after wiping his face off on it. He licks his lips fully and heads off to his closet to get a new outfit, stopping at the doorway to instruct his maid.

“Make sure you clean those sheets, you fucking whore.” He growls. “I am not sleeping in that.”

He laughs and walks off to dress. He takes mental note that he hears her sobbing, but pretends not to hear, because he hates to hear people cry. His gut twists and he runs off the loo to empty the contents of his stomach.

 

* * *

 

 

“What took you so long?” Louis growls, white lingering under his nostrils.

“Needed to get something out of my system,” he admits, eyes low.

Zayn’s rocking on the balls of his feet, humming a tune he doesn’t quite recognize, dopey grin pressed on his lips. Harry guesses he’s just taken something, because he’s never like that unless he’s high on blow. Niall’s over in the corner, sipping from a gold-plated flask, face slightly flushed from the alcohol.

“You all ready to go then?”

“Let’s go fuck up this kid,” Zayn grins.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry’s head is pounding with need, drugs absent from his body and liquor as well. He winces as the bell sounds. The door hesitantly opens after the click of a lock and there stands a white-haired woman with a round face, cheeks rosy and lips a hot pink. Her hair is short in an edgy bob, tongue peeking out her lips as she speaks.

“Hello, can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Harry Styles.” He grins. “We were just wondering if Liam was home, Mrs. Payne said he be around by now.”

“Oh, well give me a moment,” she smiles. “Come in and wait a bit then.”

They hesitantly step in, exchanging weak glances. Louis closes the door behind them and Mrs. Payne comes rushing to the door, apron strung over her body.

“Oh hello boys!” She beams. “Did Nicola get the door for you?”

Harry takes note that none of them are too good at introducing themselves and nods with a grin, somewhat hoping that that was Nicola who brought them in.

“She’s my oldest, beautiful girl isn’t she?” Her face is rosy and they all nod. “Well, Liam’s upstairs, hasn’t come down since he went out for a jog. I’m sure Nicola’s getting him now.”

Mrs. Payne walks towards the kitchen, stopping when she doesn’t hear footsteps behind her. She waves an eager hand and smiles bright.

“Well c’mon then! Was just making dinner.”

Harry’s lips accidentally slip out an “oh”. The thought of someone besides a chef making food for you makes his stomach twist. He pinches his eyes shut for a moment and sits on a stool.

“Smells lovely, Mrs. Payne,” Zayn chirps up, pupils wide from the drugs.

“Oh thank you.” She grins proudly. “Would you boys like to stay for dinner? I’ve made loads.”

Louis grips Niall by the shoulder before he pipes in, digging his fingers into his shoulders. His arm is in the air as if he’s about to speak, winces when Louis grabs him.

“Oh, no,” Harry speaks up. “My chef is making dinner as we speak, we actually wanted Liam to come over and eat. My parents would be chuffed to have him come to ours.

“Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t be opposed to that wonderful offer!” Eyes wide, lips taut against her smile. “Oh here he is now!”

They all snap their heads around quick, seeing the lad with messing brown locks and eyes squinting against the light. He’s dressing a plain vest, wrinkling into the indents of his muscles. Harry notices Zayn lick his lips as they all eye him, hungrily (except for Niall). He’s got a pair of worn out joggers on, feet bare against the tile. He’s roughing a hand through his hair, muscles of his arm curving out and the brown hairs from his armpit visible.

“What Mum? Nicola said I was needed downstairs, I was having a kip.”

Harry notes his accent and breathes it in like the sweet smell of vanilla wafting throughout the air. Mrs. Payne nearly screams at the poor lad, hair in tangles and dressed in old clothes in front of the wonderfully dressed, posh boys sat at her granite counter.

“Liam! We have guests, how dare you come down dressed like a hobo!” She growls through gritted teeth.

Harry snickers into Niall’s shoulder, burying his face and breathing in his musky scent. Niall’s hand lingers across his back and Liam’s eyes snap open wide.

“Oi! Hello,” his face flushes and Zayn licks his lips again, twitching his leg impatiently.

Louis’ quick to jump on his heels towards the attractive lad, a gentle kiss to the cheek as he greets him by name.

“Hello Liam, I’m Louis Tomlinson.” He smiles pointedly, cheeks soft with his grin.

Zayn’s quick behind him, shoulders loose and limbs heavy on his thin frame. He pulls his sleeves down over his wrists, hoping to cover the black ink splattered across them. He kisses his cheek, lingering slightly too long as Liam kisses back and attempts not to look surprised when he leans back, grabbing his hand.

“‘m Zayn Malik,” he hums.

Niall goes to get up and Harry pushes him back, still curled into his shoulder. He needs an excuse to stay down, because he’s feeling like shit. Harry half waves, pretending to look put together as Zayn steps back.

“Harry Styles, and this is Niall Horan,” he giggles as he squeezes his pale cheeks.

Niall mumbles a curse word into Harry’s ear and waves politely at the boy standing in front of them.

“Hello,” he grins, sounding awfully posh.

“Liam these lads live around here, they wanted you to invite you over for supper tonight.”

“Ey?” He says confused, brown eyes twinkling.

“Well, I’m gonna pick out an outfit for you, you boys chat amongst yourselves.”

“Mum, you don’t have to pick out my clothes!” He groans, scrambling after her, but she shoos him back to where the four lads stand.

“So, Liam,” Harry spits. “What brings you around here?”

“Erm, um, my dad got transferred. His boss thanked him with this lovely house, said it was his parent’s summer home, but never really got around to using it...”

“A couple million pound mansion?” He says quizzically.

Niall swats Harry across the forehead, then sits his head back down on his shoulder again. Louis and Zayn are very obviously inspecting Liam’s body, admiring the craftsmanship of his muscles.

“Ignore Harry, he’s just a little cunt.” Niall says, Irish accent ringing in.

“So, what do you like to do Liam Payne?” Louis hums.

“Like running lots,” he grins. “I sing a bit as well, but mostly I just study.”

“Oh?” Louis acknowledges. “Why aren’t you off at Uni then?”

“Family hasn’t quite got the money for that.” He laughs. “Plus, I have no idea what I want to do, so I’m waiting a year or so.”

Harry watches his cheeks turn a faint pink, his eyes squinting with his smile. His stomach twists again and he flinches against Niall. Niall looks down at him, rubbing his back carefully.

“You alright, mate?” Niall whispers.

“Yeah, just got the chills."

He laughs softly and pets him on the head. Harry feels ill, needs to lie down, needs drugs. Is it him or is his body shaking? Niall seems to notice, gently rocking him back and forth, humming a tune that doesn’t sound like music.

“Well, then. Can’t wait to bring you back to Harry’s.”

“Yeah, sounds exciting,” Liam pipes.

Zayn and Louis exchange a glance with raised eyebrows that Liam sees and makes him nervous. Harry’s eyes close and his lips feel blue.

 

* * *

 

 

“Ugh, shit, Lou, help me with Harry.”

“Haz, you’re a mess tonight.” Louis laughs.

“Fuck you,” Harry groans, leaning into Louis’ body.

He feels the burn of acid creeping up his throat, cheeks puffing up to catch the vomit and yelling through closed lips.

“One more second Harry, we’re almost there.” Niall promises.

They run to the nearest bathroom and he collapses on the ground, leaning up for a moment to blow chunks into the vintage ivory bathtub. His mouth taste bitter, like cheap vodka and blood. Niall quickly turns on the faucet, red and bitter yellow swirling down the drain. Harry waves a hand behind him as he chucks up his last meal.

“Cut a line for me,” he moans.

Niall pulls out a baggie from a hidden drawer and Louis cuts it against the granite countertop. Harry wipes his lips against the inside of his wrist, cutting off the faucet. He aches for the drugs in his system, snorts it up quick and shakes a cigarette out of pack. He feels around his pockets for a lighter and curses when he can’t find the fancy, engraved one Des bought for his 15th birthday. He desperately yanks at the cabinets and drawers to find a match. He finds one, strikes it across the back of the box and burns the tips of his fingers when he lights up.

Harry eagerly sucks at the poison stick like a hungry newborn at her mother’s nipple, letting the nicotine coat his lungs, smoke dispersing around their heads.

“Better?” Niall coos.

“Fuck,” Harry curses. “Never let me get like that again.”

They laugh and exit the loo to find Zayn biting at Liam’s neck. Harry feels a twinge in his gut again and runs back for the toilet. He has no idea what’s gotten into him, but he’s not liking it in the slightest.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh god,” Liam blushes, fingers shaking. “Fuck, I should go -”

“No, stay,” Zayn purrs, petting the mark he’s left on his neck.

Louis and Niall just glance at each other, and call back for Harry. He’s dry heaving into the toilet, but he’s not barfing. His stomach feels like shit and he’s not sure why. He splashes some cold water on his face, rubbing it down his neck and ripping off his top. His eyes stutter over the reflection and they vomit at the sight. The lanky, tall figure with black splotches of mistake written all over him. He pinches his eyes quick, nearly darting for the door.

He walks out again, pulling himself back together and casually strolling, jeans low on his hips. He pretends not to notice Liam’s lingering gaze over his pelvis.

“Shit, Harry,” Zayn curses. “You look wrecked.”

“Been puking my insides out, but you know.” He laughs.

“Here take this,” he tosses Harry a bottle full of prescription pills. “It’s that shit for kids with ADHD, supposed to calm you down, sum’fing like that.”

Harry doesn’t care what it is, just reads the dosage, 150mg and takes two (or five, he’s not really sure), swallowing it down dry. He smirks when Liam’s eyes widen and Harry thinks, this kid has no idea. He tosses back the bottle to Zayn, mumbles a thanks and trudges over to the kitchen where Robert’s sat with a Shepherd's pie for himself.

“Afternoon, Robert,” Harry greets.

“Forget a shirt, Mr. Styles?” He jokes, a shit eating grin plastered on his lips.

“Seems so,” he laughs. “It’s a bit chilly in here, ay? Can you tell Marie to lift up the heat?”

“Can tell,” Robert says, tilting his head to Harry’s erect nipples. “Will do Mr. Styles.”

Harry sits down at the table, stomach grumbling from throwing up all the contents and he reaches for a glass of water. All the others sit down around the table, Liam directly across from him, Louis and Zayn on the left, Niall to his right. Harry licks his lips seductively, eyes locked on Liam. He watches him shift uncomfortably and laughs on the inside.

“‘m gonna eat, don’t judge me.” He chuckles the high getting to his head.

They all start to eat, focused on their food, picking at the bits they don’t like, but really they’re teenage boys, they’ll eat anything.

Liam’s sitting scraping at his plate with his fork, eyes lingering on Harry every few minutes. Harry takes a moment away from his food to acknowledge him, lips pursed, eyebrow up in fascination.

“Just gonna stare at me pretty boy?”

His face flushes, pink darting all over him. “Erm, no -- I just...”

“What?” Harry doesn’t have patience, hates when people dance around what they’re trying to say.

“Do you need that medication you took?”

Harry laughs, deep and throaty. “No, but I took it anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because I like getting high? Why else?”

“Erm, uh, well, um -- uh, I should go then.”

“Don’t go,” Zayn whines.

“I should go,” he accidentally squeaks. “I shouldn’t be here.” Then hastily runs out.

Zayn curses, pissed and Harry just goes back to his food, stomach twisting again, bile rushing up his throat.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry wakes up in the morning feeling like hell, he decides he’ll stay sober today. He stumbles out of bed, fills up the tub as he checks his phone for messages. He’s got three from Zayn, he guesses they were from the morning drunk and pissed that he hadn’t fucked Liam. Another from a slightly concerned Niall and a link from Louis of a video of a guy doing blow and not knowing how to, white powder everywhere. He half-heartedly laughs, shaking his head.

He’s got another message from Gemma, he deletes it before even looking. He knows what it’s gonna say, im sorry haz, hope everythings ok. i just want everything to be ok. She’s too worried and he’s too laid back, he’s concerned that one day it’s gonna kill him. Not really that concerned, if he’s dead he’s dead. See?

He sinks into the tub, pretends he doesn’t hear the maids calling for him, finishing a cigarette before flicking the butt on the ground. He takes a deep breath and lets his body collapses in the water.

 

* * *

 

 

The days drown on, dull and endless. He runs out of blow so he calls up Zayn and buys a couple grams off him, but mostly he just sits around in his pants making Robert cook him food. He throws popcorn at Marie when she’s cleaning and ignores Gemma’s calls. Every now and then he’ll decide to fuck Aggie, sometimes sweet, others rough.

He feels empty and vacant, doesn’t want to bother with people who aren’t a constant. In his life, no one is, except for Robert and Marie. He knows Aggie’s temporary, eventually she’ll get tired of Harry’s bullshit and run off with tears in her eyes.

Zayn won’t last, the only reason they became friends was because he sold and that made Harry’s life a lot easier. But, then there’s Niall and Louis, he’s known them his whole life, but he knows they aren’t constant either. They’ll leave. They all do.

Harry knows none of them will last, one day even Marie and Robert will leave. Harry doesn’t want to think about that now because he’ll probably end up in a tub, overdosing with glassy eyes and blood dripping down his lips.

Harry doesn’t remember when he went from living life, fucked up on drugs from just existing. He doesn’t want to think about it any longer, just hopes that something will pull him out of this, and quick.

 

* * *

 

 

“Um, uh, Mr-Mr. Styles?” The new maid stutters tapping on Harry’s door.

He’s laying in bed, a lazy hand down his joggers and some sort of porn ringing on the telly. His phone is buzzing, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are drooping, and he hums back a reply.

He tries to think of her name, something with a C, but he remembers that she’s Marie’s sister. She’s younger with brighter eyes, a smaller chest and a weak smile. Harry’s heard her laugh -- beautiful like the sound of a baby who finally giggles after a night of fits. He thinks she’s stunning, but doesn’t bother, because Aggie’s probably gotten to her and warned her.

“There’s someone at the door for you.” Her voice is shaky and her hands are twisting together like knots.

Harry pulls his hand out of his joggers, shakes his hair and stares at her with hazy eyes from the marijuana he smoked earlier. She hesitantly steps back as he approaches her. His lips go up in a wicked smile. He touches the tip of her chin with the hand that he was touching himself with, kisses her on the corner of the mouth, mumbling thanks and drags a hand across her arm as he makes his way downstairs.

Just when he’s almost at the front room, Marie stops him, soft hand on his shoulder, smile on her lips. Harry’s confused by the sudden emotion but doesn’t really think much of it.

“I finished your laundry, Mr. Styles.” She hums. “Would you like me to put it away or leave it out?”

Harry’s lips smack together. “Put them away, but do you have my green beanie?”

She nods her head, lips still pressed into a grin. His head is aching and his body feels tight, He should probably shower after this, but he doesn’t want to put effort into that. Maybe he’ll just take a bath.

She fishes it out of her basket and hands it to him. He shoves it over his head, nudging his cheek against hers, the movement so quick he forgets to kiss her. He makes his way to the door and looks over at the vintage couch in the greeting room, surprised to see who it is.

“Liam?”

“Hi Harry,” Liam croaks out, voice harsh as if he just woken up.

He stands in front of him as if him as if he’s royalty, brown eyes wandering everywhere besides his green. He’s nervous, licking his lips impatiently and rocking on his heels. Harry comes nearer to the poor lad, hazy green eyes suddenly more alert.

He sits on one end of the couch, Liam on the other and Marie’s younger sister is coming in with tea. She smiles brightly as Liam says thank you and shutters when Harry mumbles thanks. He wonders what’s so comforting about the presence of Liam that everyone else feels, because when he’s around him all he feels is aches and pains.

It makes him crave the loose footing on the edge of the rooftop even more.

Harry stares graciously at his hands shifting uncomfortably around this mother’s fine china, lips bright pink and glistening from his saliva. He involuntarily swallows hard staring at Liam then snaps himself out of it.

“So what are you here for?” He grins. “Reckon you feel uncomfortable here with what happened last week.”

Liam licks his lips again, tempting Harry, “Er, a bit, but it’s okay..can’t avoid you forever.”

He tries to reassure Harry with an awkward laugh and a half-hearted smile. His eyes are a worrying brown, pupils grown in size and mouth cracking at the corners. He takes a long sip of tea, blinks once, twice before answering the long overdue question.

“My mum wanted me to bring you some food, um, Richard took it, and, uh, wanted me to invite you lot - I mean, your family, to our house for supper.”

Harry laughs at Liam, because he’s cute with his nervous stuttering and fluttering eyes. He picks up the pack of cigarettes that Marie’s sister has left on the tea tray, looks over at Liam.

“Y’mind?”

He eagerly waves his hands, an awkward chuckle slipping from his lips. “No, no -- go on.”

Harry lights up, lets the poison coat his lungs and exhales above them. He pretends he doesn’t notice Liam staring, biting his lips red. He flushes, eyes darting elsewhere.

“My mum said she would’ve invited you earlier, but, um, the house looked like a wreck, but we’re all settled in now. So, would you all join us then?” He grins politely, but Harry can see the fear behind it.

“Actually, no -- I’m sorry. My mum’s out of town with her boyfriend and my dad’s working. Then, Gemma --” he nearly hisses at the name. “My sister, she’s, uh, moved out. Maybe another time when they’re all ‘round, ay?”

“Oh?” Liam says surprised. As if he’s never heard of a rich kid nearly living alone in his family’s mansion, being tended to his every need, except for one.

“Yeah,” Harry says hesitantly.

Liam gets up to his feet, placing the tea cup back on the tray, smiling weakly. He pats his hands on his jeans, jeans that are awfully tight, and heads for the door.

“Well I’m off then, thanks for having me and what not. I hope to see you around.” He lies.

Harry grabs his hand, easily lacing their fingers together. He stares at their combined hands slotted together, like a tape in a tape recorder, as if they’re designed to fit one another. He doesn’t bother to look at Liam when he speaks to him, too mesmerized by their hands fit together.

“Stay, please?” He whines. “I get awfully lonely all on my own, Li.”

Harry watches Liam’s cheeks light up pink like some sort of Valentine’s decoration. Hesitantly, but sure enough, he stays, sits on the couch next to Harry, their hands fit together. The curly haired lad grinning bright at the other.

He takes a slight notice that Liam doesn’t break their subtle embrace and is carefully rubbing their fingers against each other.

“Tell me about yourself, Li.” Harry mumbles, nuzzling into his shoulder.

Liam’s face darts red, lips stuttering for something to say, but only air slips out. Harry laughs, staring up at him with twinkling green.

“Er, like what?”

“Anything,” he hums.

Harry taps his fingers against the back of Liam’s hand. He waits in silence, hoping for something of interest to slip out of his lips. He can hear the thump of his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin and the smell of Liam all over. He smells of warmth and lingering mint, he wonders if thats what a home smells like.

“I hate that I moved here,” he admits.

Harry laughs pleasantly, “I already knew that one -- surprise me.”

“I can’t think of anything, I’m not interesting, Harry.”

“Yes, you are.” He hums. “I know you are, because I can’t figure you out. You’re like a closed bag of crisps and I’m just a hungry bloke.”

He pauses for a moment before he finishes his thought, the silence spinning around their heads as Harry takes a drag, almost forgetting he even had a smoke with him. He licks his lips, soft and gentle, barely even touching them.

“I want to get inside you,” Harry purrs.

He feels Liam jump, like a jolt of lightning had just run through him. He breaks apart their hands, leaving Harry feeling empty.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Liam squeaks.

“Calm down, Liam, it’s just a metaphor.”

“Oh,” and then he settles.

Harry spots the bite still residing on his neck, purple and green almost faded. He wonders what his mum had thought, wonders if she asked how his night was. Harry wonders if he told her that he ran out because he knew they were bad kids -- the ones who spend too much time fucking and getting high, not the posh kids she thought they were.

But his mum is quite gullible and Liam knows that very well.

“Tell me Liam,” Harry says, dragging a finger across the fading bruise. “Have you ever kissed a bloke?”

He’s quick to stutter, “Er, um -- well, once or twice.”

He laughs, “Let me rephrase that, have you ever been properly kissed by a bloke before? Snog and all?”

Liam swallows hard as Harry leans into him. He shifts his hands nervously, trying to avoid his eyes. Harry almost loses his will power then, kisses him fully on the lips. He just wants Liam to feel good, feel good like he never has and it’s the weirdest feeling.

“Uh, I guess not then...”

Harry smiles, leaning back and taking the last drag from his fag, flicking the butt off. Liam turns towards him, looking at him almost quizzically. He bites his lips gently and subtly moves forward into Harry.

“Why do you ask?” Liam wonders aloud.

“Curious.”

“Have you?”

Harry laughs then, head thrown back and eyes shut, almost as if Liam has told the world’s funniest joke. He regains himself and pets the inside of Liam’s wrist.

“I will literally fuck anything as long as they are remotely attractive.” Harry admits.

“...oh,” Liam says, almost sounding disappointed.

He flicks at his chin, smile fading to a playful frown. “Why so glum chum?”

“‘m not,” he defends.

“Sure,” Harry laughs.

“‘m not!”

“You’re only lying to yourself, Li Li.” He giggles. “So, if you’ve barely even kissed a bloke, why would you let Zayn nip at you like that?”

Harry softly rubs at receding bruise on Liam’s neck, then he notices another small one under the soft press of his jaw. His face flushes and attempts to turn away, but then Harry grips his chin hard, makes him stare at him.

“I just, uh, I don’t know. He was just sweet and said things I wanted to hear, I don’t know.”

He laughs, letting go, “You sound like a girl."

“Suppose I’m not the manliest man,” Liam murmurs.

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” Harry hums, dragging his fingers against the curves of his arms. “But, Zayn does have that effect on people... Guess he just gets what he wants.”

“Ah.”

Harry stares at Liam for a moment, eyes wandering around the contours of face, the dip of his lips and the texture of his skin. He appreciates him, admires him like a fine piece of art. For a second, his stomach knots up, makes him flinch. He winces, but plays it off as if it isn’t a thing.

“I’ve asked you so many questions, aren’t you slightly curious about me?”

“I guess, but I shouldn’t be.” Liam voices as a whisper.

“Why shouldn’t you be, that’s human nature, dear Liam.” He laughs, “C’mon then, anything -- really.”

“Why do you fu-- have sex with anyone?” The words spurt out of his mouth like blood from a broken vein.

Harry’s a little taken that out of all the things he could’ve asked, he asked this one. He has to take a moment to think this over. Why does Harry feel the need to have sex so much?

“I like to feel good -- sex feels good.”

“I’m sure not everyone you have sex with is properly knows your body.” Liam says quietly, surprised when Harry hears it.

“Well, Liam, you’re a teenage boy aren’t you? Doesn’t take too much to get off, now does it?”

He’s silent, Harry wonders oh --

“Are you a virgin?” He says as if he’s a child who’s just heard a bad word.

Liam’s face turns into a patchy red, lips being sucked in by his teeth. “No! No!”

“Then...”

“I just don’t get around to it much often.”

“Not even a wank?” Harry spits, almost disgusted.

“No, I try not to.”

“Well, what’s your point about knowing someone’s body?”

Liam’s eyes wander around, hands slowly twisting together. His eyes squint as if he’s searching for a way to describe what he’s trying to say.

“It’s just, when you know someone else’s body you know what makes them tick and what they like, not just guessing with some random bird -- or bloke.”

He looks flushed now, as if he’s said too much. Harry reaches for his hand, smiles. Their hands are tangled like vines and Liam’s hand feels clammy. Harry feels his stomach twist and has the sudden urge to vomit, he holds it back.

“Harry, are you okay?” Liam’s eyes crinkle in concern. “You don’t look too good.”

“Can you take me to my room?” His eyes flutter weakly.

“Um, sure -- d’ya mind if I carry you?”

“No, not at all.” Harry mumbles.

Liam carefully inches off the couch not to stir Harry too much. He slips an arm around his back, the other around his thighs and carries him off wedding style. He feels limp in Liam’s arms, almost like a ragdoll and he wonders why the sudden change.

He carries him up the stairs, then Harry weakly reaches up, pointing to his room. Liam looks amazed at the size of his home, brown eyes wide, arms not even quivering under his weight. He settles Harry on his bed.

Liam looks at him, “You need anything Harry? I can get one of your maids, but I should probably get going.”

“No, I’m okay, can you come here for a moment?”

“Um -- sure.” He inches closer and Harry beckons him so his lips can reach.

He presses a weak kiss to his cheek, dragging his lips to his ear, breathing hard before speaking.

“Come back, will you, Liam? I quite enjoy your company.”

Then, Harry falls asleep and Liam disappears into the mansion, searching for the door he came from.

 

* * *

 

 

When Harry wakes he’s in the tub, Marie’s younger sister carefully rubbing his back. She applies tender touches, making sure to lather the skin. His eyes weakly flicker and she’s suddenly startled.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He mumbles, sleep still lingering in his voice.

“It’s okay, Mr. Styles.” Then she goes back to lathering him, strokes shakier.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple days,” she mumbles. “We had a doctor come see you, but he couldn’t see a reason to why you were ill. I thought it might be a good idea if you were bathed, you had been sweating loads.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“What is your name again?”

“Katherine, Marie’s younger sister.”

“Ah, yes -- thank you for reminding me.” He hums. “So tell me Katherine, why are you so terrified of me?”

It’s funny. How Harry’s just woken from a three-day slumber and they’re acting as if it’s normal. (I suppose in this house it is.)

She stops washing for a moment, body shaking, licking her lips over. She rings out the washcloth, then dampens it again, rubbing the front of his chest as he leans back.

“I’m not --”

Harry doesn’t even bother to listen any longer, “Please, don’t treat me like a fool. I know you are afraid of me.”

Her eyes fall, “It’s just from what Marie told me and that younger bird, Aggie. Said you’re intimidating and rude, also doing drugs and having fits. I just don’t want to be hurt.”

“Oh?” He whispers soft. “Is that what they say?”

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

“Well, that is me in a nutshell,” he laughs. “But I would never hurt one of my workers.”

“But, but, Aggie --” She stops washing.

“She’s never said no, she’s never stopped me from doing it, Katherine. Don’t assume things now.”

“Oh, well -- that still doesn’t justify what you’re doing to her.”

“I’m well aware, if you haven’t noticed, I’m not the nicest bloke.”

She’s silent, kneeling at the edge of the tub with her sleeves rolled up, hazel eyes reflecting the tub water. He wants to get inside her head, feel what she’s feeling. He can’t even imagine what’s she’s feeling.

“You can leave, I’d like to be alone now.”

Her face flushes a light pink, beautiful like flowers in his mother’s garden. “Oh, alright then, Mr. Styles. If you need anything...”

He nods. Once she disappears from his sight, he empties the tub of the chilled water and refills it with steaming hot water that scorches his skin. It skins all over, but he smiles, because now there’s something to feel, not that emptiness that was there before.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s just finished dressing, puts on a flimsy vest, a hoodie over it and some skinny jeans. He puts on a pair of slippers, fuzzy and designer. He hums a song he doesn’t know the words to as he lights a cigarette. Harry exhales as Aggie comes to the door, hands folded neatly, hair messily curled around her face. He appreciates her for a moment, the fake golden colour of her skin and the length of her lashes. She’s a gorgeous girl, he decides and dares himself never to sleep with her again. She doesn’t need someone like him in her life.

“Mr. Styles, you have a guest waiting for you downstairs.”

“Oh?” Harry says surprised. “I’ll be just a moment then.”

She nods quietly, long legs striding away and brown locks flowing with her movement. Harry wonders how he hasn’t quite noticed her like he has now. Maybe it’s just one of those days. He licks his lips, taking a drag as he hobbles down the steps, surprised -- once again -- of who is stood at his front door.

“Morning,” Liam greets. “Hope it isn’t too early.”

“Oh, of course not.”

He goes on with his spiel anyways, “It’s just that I always go for a jog in the morning and then, I shower. I just figured I’d go get some breakfast and bring some for you -- if that’s alright.”

Harry laughs to himself, he thinks it’s cute how he makes gestures of kindness and questions them, as if he shouldn’t have done it. He goes up to him, leans down in the slightest and kisses him lightly on the cheek.

“Thank you, Liam,” he grins. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

He intertwines their hands and takes the bag from his hand, leaving the tray of drinks for him to hold. He leads Liam to their lounge room, where there’s beer and comfier sofas.

Harry tosses the bags on the coffee table, rummaging through them as he sits on a loveseat, Liam plopping down next to him. He scoops out a muffin with chocolate chips in it and leans back in his seat. He lets go of Liam’s hand, picks at the chocolate bits and licks them off his finger.

He notices brown eyes staring at him, “Gonna eat mate?”

He swallows hard, “oh yeah, of course,” then fishes out a breakfast sandwich with ham and egg bits and bobs in it.

Harry grins delightfully, eyes shaped like crescent moons. He smiles over at Liam, cuddling into his shoulder. He nudges the muffin up to his lips, humming.

“C’mon.”

Liam winces, flinching back, “eurg, don’t like muffins.”

“Just try it, babe."

He flushes, leaning forward and scraping his teeth against it, taking a bite. He snaps his eyes shut and swallows hard. Harry watches it fall down his throat. He blinks, eyes wide, pupils grown in size. Harry wonders if that ever happens to him -- considering his situation, probably not.

“That’s good.” He mumbles.

“Yeah, ‘cos you picked it out, you twat.” He chuckles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He says before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“You have good taste?” Harry says raising an eyebrow.

He leans over, very obviously, taking a small bite out of Liam’s sandwich. He grins, humming at the taste. He reaches to the table, grabbing a coffee and drinking it straight. Liam’s a little surprised to see Harry isn’t phased by the black coffee.

He just leans back into Liam, the smell of coffee and chocolate on his breath. He wonders if Liam’s tempted like he is.

He flinches just slightly as he reaches a hand around Harry, curling it into his hipbone. It’s a strange feeling, Liam’s hand buried in his side, but he’s enjoying it for the most part and that’s when it hits him. The realization, that today, he’s woken up with feeling as if it has all snapped back to him.

He hasn’t had the urge for drugs or pain, not since his bath, but there’s no ache when he’s with Liam, he doesn’t feel ill and just as he leans his lips up to kiss the older boy’s chin and hopes that this will last.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry enjoys having Liam around. He's like a bright wash of tropical sun on his pale, British body. Maybe it's the fact that Harry is enjoying him too much that fears him -- and that's just it! That he's actually fearing things and enjoying things other than drugs and alcohol.

It's the fact that when he's with Liam he doesn't need any of that pain. The ache that Liam leaves in his stomach is enough pain -- Liam himself is enough for Harry. And that's absolutely terrifying that he could ever be so attached to a person as he has become to him.

He's not too sure what to do with all these feelings and fucking emotions, realizes that maybe he'd be better off without them again.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry's stood on the rooftop, lips curved around a fag, body shaking for the blow he did an hour ago. He's freezing up here, but the icy chill is what he deserves. Just as Harry steps up to the ledge, Liam darts out the door he'd came up.

"Harry, what are you doing?!" He yells over the sound of the wind. "Katherine told me you were up here."

Harry ignores Liam's question and goes on with this speech he's gone over a million times in his head.

"Liam, do you have any idea how many times I've crawled up here, pissed and fucked up on drugs, intending to kill myself?" He laughs because he's never said that outloud before. "But I've never done it. And the one reason why I always wanted to kill myself, now it's the exact opposite."

Harry feels the wind in his eyes and starts to tear up, voice thick with guilt and sadness, things he never had before.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me Liam? Any idea?"

Liam looks as if he's gonna speak for a moment, but Harry refuses to let him speak.

"You make me feel,” he says as if it’s a disease. “You make me feel something. I forgotten what it’s like to feel, Liam.”

Liam’s face flushes, as if all this stuff that Harry’s saying is a compliment. And Harry feels the familiar burn in his stomach. He thinks, this is it and leans forward.

Next thing he knows, he’s pressed down against the rooftop, Liam kissing him -- properly kissing him and he feels warm all over. His hands are mangled into his unruly curls, desperately kissing Harry. Lips practically screaming, _I need you_.

And for once, Harry gets it.

 

* * *

 

 

He peels off Liam’s top, taking in the scent of him and the sight of his skin. Everything is so taut and strong, and momentarily, he wonders how he could’ve gotten this lucky. He kisses his navel, pressing warm kisses up to the curve of his neck.

And Liam’s panting into Harry’s skin, realizing that he really wants this, more than he could possibly imagine. He’s never felt this need for anyone before.

“Tell me how bad you want it, Liam.” He breathes, kissing a spot behind his ear that makes him whine.

“Wha--, Harry,” and his face flushes all over.

He falters for a moment removing any part of skin that’s touching him. Liam bucks his hips involuntarily, an accidental whine slipping from the back of his throat.

“Tell me how often you’ve been dreaming of this,” Harry whispers into Liam’s ear. “I need to know you want this as bad as me.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “I..I keep thinking about you, at night I can’t sleep unless I have a toss over you.”

And Harry laughs, because this is probably as far as his dirty talk goes. He rewards the weak boy with a kiss to his lips, softly licking into his mouth, tasting him all over. He’s sweet and heavenly, a taste that Harry never wants to forget. He kisses down Liam’s chest again, letting the short hairs tickle his nose. He stops at the center of his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat to make sure that he’s real. He can feel him breathing hard against his ribs, then continues down.

Harry holds Liam’s hips, thumbs petting the v’s of his hipbones. Liam bucks up again and he can’t help but smirk up at him, because he loves teasing him like this. Loves the way his face flushes when he asks something a little too much, but he doesn’t do anything about it.

He lets his tongue fall out of his mouth, dangerously close to his skin. Liam whimpers and it’s so fucking cute. Harry can feel it go to his cock that’s achingly hard and straining against his jeans. He swivels his hips against Liam’s leg, a moan jumping out of his mouth.

“Fuck, Harry, please.”

And Harry gives in, licking the soft line of hair underneath his belly button, pulling down his pants. He’s shivering now, groaning softly as his prick springs to life against his stomach.

Harry marvels at the size, amazed that he doesn’t just go out on the town nude just to show off and he swallows hard, because it makes him weak all over. His chest feels heavy and he smiles up at Liam as he softly grazes his tongue on the underneath of his prick. He takes a breath before taking a hold of it in his hands and taking him in whole. Liam groans above him and he’s shocked when he feels Harry lips at the base of him, stretched around his cock.

He starts moving slow, letting his tongue move freely as he goes on. He’s humming around Liam’s prick, reaching up for his hand to place in his hair. Liam’s tentatively pulls, curious as to Harry’s reaction, and when he feels him moan around him he’s eager to go at it again.

That’s how they stay, Liam’ hands yanking at Harry’s chocolate curls and lips stretched around his prick. Then he’s feeling that familiar tingling inside of him, stomach clenching and breath growing short.

“So close,” Liam mumbles and that’s the signal for Harry to stop all together.

And Liam’s so frustrated and angry he doesn’t know what to do but grab the younger boy by the hair, forcing their lips together. Harry feels Liam’s tongue in his mouth, searching for his taste, with a gentle stroke he lets their tongues press and god he’s never felt more attracted to a person in all of his life. He nibbles on his lip as he starts to retreat, soft whines, that Harry decides he loves, spilling out of his lips. He’s inching back down to his cock and Liam twitches in excitement.

“Be a good boy, Liam,” Harry purrs, slipping off his jeans.

He shrugs any fabric off his body, standing still for a moment to admire this masterpiece in front of him. His body so achingly close to Liam’s, his cock begging to be inside him and have the closest possible connection to anyone he’s ever had.

“Shit,” Liam curses. “Harry, you...you’re so big.”

And Harry laughs because he’s heard that before, but it’s just adorable coming out of Liam’s pink lips. He looks down to inspect himself for a moment and decides that he really isn’t all that big. He’s skinny where he’d prefer to be thick like Liam’s.

He leans up to his lips once again, kisses him as his hand wanders off into his drawer. He suspects Liam hears the noises, and presses his nose into his, breaking their kiss.

“‘s okay, not doing anything. Just getting lube.”

Liam’s eyes go a little wide at this, just as Harry has expected. He knows that he’s never been touched like that, but he would never want to hurt him. He looks him in the eye, nudging their foreheads together.

“Promise it’ll feel good.”

“Promise?”

“Yes,” and Harry leans in, reassuring him with a desperate kiss, rubbing himself against his leg.

He moves back down, hands gliding over every possible bit of skin he’s got and he grabs Liam’s legs, placing them on his shoulders. His eyes look worried and Harry kisses the inner part of his thigh, rubbing a spot on the other.

“‘s okay, Li.” He hums. “Just stay calm okay?”

Liam hesitantly nods as Harry leans in, licking softly at his hole. He shivers, whining slightly. Harry keeps licking, tracing the outline, slowly letting his tongue reach in deeper. He looks up at Liam and he’s wincing. Harry feels so bad, but he knows he’ll make him feel good. He snaps open the bottle of lube, rubbing loads on his fingers. He lines the digit up with Liam’s hole, eyes upon him.

“This is gonna be cold, yeah?” Harry warns. “Just look at me, it might hurt a bit.”

Just as he speaks, he slips a finger in and Liam arches, the sensation of something inside of him feeling quite odd. Once Harry gets the knuckle past, his eyes start to close.

“Look at me, Liam.” He demands.

“This feels weird, Harry.” Liam whines.

He carefully works the digit around, slipping it in and out and once he feels Liam start to stretch he slips in another finger. He’s gasping, eyes wide, watering under his touch. Harry feels terrible, seeing Liam wrecked like this, but he loves it as well. He loves seeing him come undone when he’s always trying so hard to keep himself together.

His heart is racing and his fingers move like a routine, curving against him, brushing over a spot that makes Liam tight. He groans under Harry’s touch. And he’s squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to come seeing Liam like that.

“What was that?” Liam pants. “It feels so good.”

Harry wastes no time, brushing over that spot once again, pressing harder this time around. He starts up a gentle rhythm, making sure to hit his prostate hard. Harry’s kissing the inner part of his leg as Liam starts to come undone. He’s covered in sweat, lips pink, eyes shut, dick throbbing. Harry needs to be inside him.

“Liam,” Harry mumbles.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Liam chants, bucking up his hips.

“Let me -- please Liam. I need to feel you. I need you.” He begs.

“No, please, don’t stop.”

Harry can’t find it in himself to stop, but he just needs and wants this so much, that his fingers still inside of Liam. There’s a whine that makes Harry twitch, but he just lines himself up with the poor lad.

It’s a gentle push through the loosened ring of muscle and all the words are gone between them. Liam’s lips are frozen in place and Harry’s chest hurts from holding his breath in so long. His hips start moving like it’s a routine, but there’s a certain emotion behind every thrust and Harry doesn’t know what it is. He just feels like, what he’s never felt in his life; a feeling of belonging and reason. Harry can't believe he was gonna die without feeling this.

“Har - Harry!” And without warning, there’s splattered white against Liam’s bare chest.

Harry feels thoroughly satisfied with getting Liam to come just by fucking him, he’s also disappointed that it only lasted as long as it did. It sort of a bittersweet moment, because Harry doesn’t ever want the feeling like this fade away.

His thrusts begin getting more erratic with need and pure want. He’s hungry for the feeling Liam’s coming down from, and there’s an ache in the lower part of his abdomen telling he’s right about there. He’s panting from the extreme force he’s putting behind every thrust and beads of sweat are building on the very nape of his neck. The boy underneath him is whimpering and whining from being too sensitive, but Harry can’t help from letting the noises get under his skin.

“Fu - Li - Liam...” He pants as his mind starts to go blank.

“C’mon Harry, come for me,” Liam speaks as a breathy whisper and Harry loses it.

Where the hell did that come from? When did Liam decide to talk like that? With that confident, shit-eating grin on his face like that? With his words like butter, like he knew it was gonna break Harry like that? He barely has half the mind to decide out the answers, because his arms are shaking from his orgasm. He’s pulling out, chest heaving for breath. He leans down into Liam’s face with a dopey, half-assed grin on his pouty lips.

“Fucking Liam Payne,” he laughs.

Because what the fuck, how did anyone fuck him up as much as he fucked up himself? When did this kid decide to move into his fucking neighbourhood and be so fucking adorable? Harry sure as hell didn’t approve of it, neither did his drugged up brain, but hell, here he is. Here’s this motherfucking adorable little shit wrapping his hands ‘round the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him in for a well needed kiss, feeling the ever present smile between their embrace.

And really all there really is to describe him is Liam Fucking Payne.

 

* * *

 

 

“You said you sing, right?”

There’s a subtle blush on Liam’s cheeks as Harry kisses their entwined hands. His chocolatey brown eyes flicker over to Harry’s green and he nods. Curls are tucking into the corner of his shoulder, a soft hum of a voice breaking the thudding in his ears.

“Sing to me,” Harry softly demands.

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

“Um, well, I haven’t prepared and...”

“Just get on with it,” Harry smiles, “before I regret asking.”

And then Liam’s patting his free hand on his bare thigh, tapping out a beat that’s slightly familiar to Harry’s ears. Then he hears Liam’s voice; sweet and surprisingly manly. Oh God, he just wants to get wrapped up in that voice of his and love him to death.

“...It’ll be alright. Just take my hand...”

“You have to be right shitting me,” Harry interrupts.

“What?” Liam blushes from the sudden distraction.

“We’ve just fucked and you’re singing a bloody Tarzan song to me?”

They exchange a glance and their vocals go mad with laughs, but Harry’s squeezing Liam’s hand so tight the breath might go right out of him. Liam pulls his free hand around his waist, bringing them together like some sort of sandwich maker.

He’s still stuttering out laughs as he tries to defend himself. “It was the first thing that came to mind!”

“I’m thinking about the absolute amazing shag we had and you’re over here thinking ‘bout Phil Collins!”

“Oh shut up, Harry!”

He moves in, taking a nibble at Liam’s neck as punishment and he laps over the spot. Harry feels him twitch at the sudden touch. He smiles faintly.

“So, will you sing me a proper song then?”

“Dunno, now all I can think of is Disney tunes and ‘God Save The Queen.’’

“Dammit, Liam. We’ll just save this for another time then.”

“Guess so.” He says with a hint of excitement in his voice, like there’s actually gonna be another time.

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes up in the middle of the night, eyes red and legs deliciously sore. Harry wipes over his crusted eyes and waits for his chest to stop heaving from the dream he had. He feels something in him, like a burst of energy that’s telling him to do something. Without a second thought, Harry’s reaching over the bed for his phone. With a click the room is illuminated and Harry’s pupils go small. He swipes over the screen ‘til the name of interest comes up and he presses call.

 _This is Gemma, sorry I haven’t gotten your call, but promise to get back to you within the week._ Her laugh is sweet, reminds Harry of those nights when they were kids playing in forts.

“Hey Gem - um - it’s Haz, uh...” He hesitates. “I’m fucking sorry...for everything.”

He takes a deep breath and looks at the time, laughing into the receiver. He nearly hangs up, but then Liam shifts in his sleep and it gives Harry this sense of peace that keeps him going.

“I just...always feel like a fuck up and I have so many problems, and of course one of them is pushing you away when you’re the only one who cares about me. Shit Gem, I’m so sorry for treating you like shit when you were just trying to look out for me.

“But listen, I understand if it takes you awhile to get back to me. I just hope we can just patch things up, because...” He grins over at the body next to him. “You’re my sister and I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

His hand moves to Liam’s unruly waves and shrugs ‘em through his hand. He just feels so fearless with this kid next to him. It’s absolutely ridiculous.

“Right then, hope to hear from you soon. Love you, Gem.”

He hangs up, putting the phone back on the nightstand and curls himself back into Liam.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry wakes up to the smell of Liam and forgets where he fell asleep last night. But, then he licks his lips and he can taste Liam’s come and now it comes back to him. He’s trying to blink away the sleep in his eyes, when he realizes part of the equation is missing.

Liam.

He quickly hops out of Liam’s bed, tossing the duvet over his bare shoulders and stilling for a moment, because he’s gotten up too fast and every’s gone black. His chest feels heavy with regret as he turns the corner to the loo. Empty.

Nearly everywhere is empty.

Liam’s house is empty and when in hell does that every sound right. There’s practically a person popping out of every door every time Harry heads over to pick up Liam. This isn’t adding up. Harry starts smacking his face, fearing that this is a nightmare.

He doesn’t know what this bubbly feeling inside of this stomach is, the feeling that just won’t sit still, but goddammit, does he not like it. He just feels like he needs to do something and his eyes are warm with tears, but why the fuck does he feel like this? His body thuds on the ground and he pulls the duvet up to his eyes, wiping away the tears and breathing in the scent of Liam like it’s his last. He’s nibbling on his lip when there’s a soft pad on the wooden steps and Harry’s eyes snap open to see the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Liam!” He cheers.

“Sorry, Haz, did you miss me? Went to get some pastries ‘cos I’m so shit at making food.”

“Fuck you, next time leave a note or a cut out or something. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Liam kisses Harry on the lips, then leans back to inspect the entirety of his face, then blinks hard like, is this real?

“Were you crying?” Liam snaps.

“No!” Harry lies. “Now hand over the damn pastries, I smell muffins.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So that’s it?”

“What’s it?”

“You’re just gonna come around and change everything for a bloke?” Louis grunts.

“Yeah, I guess.” Harry hums. “Haven’t thought about it all that much.”

“What the fuck, who am I talking to? Harry Styles or some fucking pansy?”

Before Harry can get a word out to defend himself, Niall’s jumping in the ring to stop the argument before fists are thrown or real words come spitting out like vomit.

“Louis, shut up.” Niall growls. “Congrats Haz, we’re happy for you, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

He shoots Louis daggers in his icy blue eyes. But Louis’ right, Harry decides. It’s not like Liam can just come around and fix everything up for him. He’s fucked up, fucked up real bad and who is he to bring Liam into the mix? Even if it’s the one thing that’s felt right in his life, doesn’t mean he should be selfish and fuck up Liam’s life too. He doesn’t need Harry, so Harry shouldn’t need him.

But, fuck Harry’s life just doesn’t seem right without Liam in it. God fucking dammit, he’s never gonna make up his goddamn mind.

“Hey, you gonna hit?” Niall offers.

And Harry really doesn’t want to, but it seems so much easier than thinking right now. So he shakes his head yes and takes a bump.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry feels like he’s been asleep for days when he hears Liam voice outside his door. He groans loudly and throws a pillow at the voice. He mumbles something rude and tosses over in his bed, tucking himself under the duvet.

“Harry, you can’t avoid me forever.” Liam yells from the other side.

“Fuck you. Yes I can.” Harry spits as if it’s a challenge.

“I’m coming in.” He voices with a jiggle of the handle.

And Harry’s heart stops for a second, because he doesn’t want to see Liam’s face, not when he’s trying to break his heart. He can’t see those perfect chocolate eyes and muscular arms in a flimsy vest.

Shit, he’s getting hard just thinking about it.

Harry lunges for the door and audibly smacks his back against it. He growls under his breath, because that’s gonna be sore tomorrow, then snaps his eyes closed.

“Harry, are you okay?” There’s a sudden twist in Liam’s voice that makes him feel sick all over.

“Fine, fine. It’s just that I’m... uh, naked?” Even to Harry this sounds ridiculous.

“What? Like that’s an issue?”

And oh wow, Harry’s cock twitches at the sound of that. He gives up this pathetic ploy and opens the door to see Liam’s hair mussed up. He’s in a white vest that’s drenched in his sweat and a pair of baggy basketball shorts.

Fucking shit, of all days.

Liam lets himself in, sticking his lower lip out like a poor little puppy and whines. He grabs a handful of Harry’s arse without dismay.

“Thought you said you were nude,” he hums.

And godfuckingdammit, why is he being a cheeky cunt on a day like this? Harry pushes himself away from Liam, prick nearly half hard and wags his head like a wet dog.

“Stop it!” He yelps. “You’re making me absolutely miserable.”

Liam’s eyes go wide at the sound of this. His pupils are full of concern and complete worry that Harry nearly wants to get on his knees, suck him off ‘til it goes away. (He doesn’t though.)

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you’re doing everything right, I’m just... just... fucked up, Liam! And god, it’s not fair of me to bring in a perfect boy like you and act like you’re just gonna fix everything for me! I have to face reality and you have to leave, because it’s better for you...”

“Harry, shut up.” And Liam’s kissing him with that wonderful tongue of his that leaves his knees all wobbly.

He’s humming into his mouth as if he wasn’t just about to break up with Liam. But, Harry’s so broken and Liam’s so...so, Liam! How the hell is he ever supposed to treat him like how he should be treated? There’s no way they can keep this shit going.

“Harry, this is fucking stupid, I don’t want to leave you.” God, Harry loves when Liam swears. “And as much as I appreciate you looking out for me, I can make my own decisions. My decision is to stay with you, no matter how fucked up and shitty you are, ‘cos that’s who I want.”

“But -”

“No - no buts.” Liam says, determined.

“I love you.” What - did Harry really say that? Harry Styles; the one who can barely keep himself together and gives up on everyone before they can give up on him? _Harry Styles loves someone?_

“I -I love you too.”

“Even if I start doing drugs again, even if I push you away, even if I fuck up, because I tend to do that a lot?” Harry says with prickles of water stabbing his eyes.

Liam laughs, “I won’t be overjoyed, but yes, Harry, I’ll still love you then.”

“God, I really do love you.”

And Harry’s quickly backing Liam up into the wall to taste the musky sweat all over his body.


End file.
